I don’t go out much anymore unless I’m being contacted by a manager to check out a band that’s playing nearby. The lines on my map have stopped turning red.
“Top 20 is on,” Daniel says, jerking his head toward the living room.
This is also part of the routine because they’re fascinated by what I do, but I like to watch to see if any of my bands ever make it on there. Only one has as so far, but they were number twenty for a week and then fell off the charts like a lead balloon.
Today I nurse a large coffee that Daniel brought back from his morning walk—it’s too sweet, and I love it. Jim Shearer is deadpanning his way through some cue cards when words I never thought I’d hear come out of his mouth. An interview with an up-and-coming band whose single shot to the top of the charts in record time. Their first video is debuting this week at number five. And they’re with him for an interview.
The moment Tyler’s face fills my screen, I have to close my mouth and breathe out of my nose. I mean, I knew it was coming. The song has been on every rock and pop station in every state in the country. I’ve tried to avoid it, but there’s no fighting it, so I sing along in the car and pretend I never knew him so I can enjoy the lyrics.
We’ve only spoken a handful times since I left, and the first call was the hardest.
“You left a note.”
“You left a note, if you remember.”
“At least mine didn’t say to keep in touch.”
“Let’s not twist words around. It said call me when you can. And for the record? Yours said ‘meet me there.’ But you knew. You knew I was leaving, so it was a pussy move on your part.”
Now I’m staring at his face, and the only thing I want to do is go to my room and put on my favorite T-shirt, lie in my bed, and watch it alone.
But I haven’t been able to find my peach shirt since I moved in.
I never told Rachel or Daniel about the band I shadowed in Texas. Laura would call with updates, like how they’d been approached in the green room after their performance at South by Southwest. The AR rep wanted them immediately. Jon tried to say that Tyler was the only one they needed, but his friend wouldn’t go for it. It was the entire band or nothing.
They’d had to record a new album with Tyler on lead with new material, they added a fourth member to the band, and it didn’t take long for their single to drop. Which is why they’re telling the host of the countdown that their North American tour begins in just a few weeks’ time.
I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of them on my television screen, and I’m tensed, waiting for a call from either Rynn or Laura any second. My phone remains eerily silent.
“Your album is Songs in the Key of E. When does it officially come out?”
Tyler looks like he’s blushing and glances at the others, who are staring between him and the camera like they can’t believe this is happening. “March 15th. We’re having a release party in New York after we do an appearance on The Tonight Show.”
“It’s surreal,” Shawn says into his microphone. I shake my head because he just can’t fight the instinct to be in the spotlight for even one second.
Jim wraps up the interview, and the camera pans back. My eyes narrow, and I lean forward a little to make sure I’m seeing what I think I am. That ass is wearing my damn shirt.
It’s snug, but it fits him well. Where it was loose at my sides, it’s a little tighter on him, and the hem is tucked into the front of his jeans. He’s effortlessly sexy in my favorite T-shirt, and I’m pissed. The peach on the front mocks me.
“That guy is cute. But why is his mouth so red?”
“Suckers.” Without thinking, I pick up my phone from the coffee table, and he answers on the third ring.
“You stole my shirt, Mace Face.”
He laughs like he can’t believe I just figured it out. “You left it in the laundry room.”
“God, you’re a bad liar. You used your keys and went through my drawers?”
“You left it behind.”
There’s more to his statement than what he’s just said, and it makes my fingers clench around the coffee cup. The light in the room dims, and his insinuation makes me feel colder than the wind outside.
“Congratulations on making Top 20. Your video is on in a few seconds.”
“Yeah, I know. Listen, about the video . . .”
I stop listening before he can finish his sentence because the black and white intro on my screen with his music playing in the background is causing my entire body to seize up and stomach to drop.
“This isn’t funny, Tyler.” It’s a dilapidated apartment complex with the band playing outside. Then it cuts to scenes of Tyler and a girl in her room while she’s looking into a mirror with her arms above her head or leaning in while he plays piano, followed by shots of them arguing. It’s the end that really puts a lump in my throat because she boards a plane without turning around to say goodbye.
I can see Rachel inching toward me on the couch, but I slam the coffee cup down and stand to side-step her and march to my room. “That was completely unfair of you. Did you forget to tell the director about the part where you told me to leave? Or was that entire thing a fucking coincidence?”
He pauses before he speaks, but he has no humor in his voice when he responds. “Am I supposed to apologize? You know who those songs are about, Emily.”
I do. And it pissed me off to no end when I found out what they’d named the album. “I have to go.” He doesn’t get to say goodbye before I hang up.
Rachel is standing outside my door when I turn around. “Care to explain?”
“Not really. I’d rather have a haircut.” It’s enough to get her to stop asking questions.
I don’t know what I expected to happen when I got on that plane. Maybe that I’d feel indifferent. That I’d feel vindicated by leaving because it was such a short time we’d had together and maybe I’d built it up to be bigger in my head than it really was. But even when I got to Washington things didn’t change. I thought of him and wanted him. Laura’s calls didn’t help matters because all I should have felt was successful. I’d done my job after all. The article was perfect. They’d gotten signed.
But when I lie in bed at night, the thought of him makes my heart race. It also makes me angry.
Monday morning I am in the tiny West Coast Breakout! office when an e-mail comes through about a little indie band that’s playing across town tonight. I’m not in the mood to go, but a lead is a lead.
There’s a sense of déjà vu when I step into the bar, and it overwhelms me for a minute. I’m led upstairs to watch from above, and when the crowd rushes forward to get closer to the stage, it feels like the same night all those months ago. There are the same lights. The same electricity. My senses are reeling when the first chord is strummed.
And disappointment settles into my bones when the music does nothing for me.
The guys are nice enough. They’re cute enough. The music is radio-friendly, and they have tween sensation written all over them. They’ll have one mediocre hit of the summer and do some festival shows before they fade into obscurity and end up on one of those Hits of 2015 CDs.
I hand them off anyway because I know Rynn wants me to. This is the part of the job I hate now.
Rynn calls at ten o’clock on March 1st. It’s a day that I won’t forget for the rest of my life, but her voice doesn’t sound as horrible as the words she speaks.
“You have a new assignment. You leave in two weeks.”
When she goes on to explain, my entire world crashes down around me like some house made of faulty wood, glued instead of nailed.
“I . . .” The words fade because I know that no one says no to Rynn Thompson and lives to tell about it. They certainly don’t get to keep their job.
Stunned silence fills the room when her voice is no longer in my ear. The walls are closer than I remember, and the sky is darker than I’d noticed. The clouds are what made me like Seattle in the fir
st place. They were a stark contrast to the sun that dominated the Texas skies.
I wonder if they’ll follow me where I’m going next.
Chapter Nineteen
I miss Tyler’s performance on Jimmy Fallon. It’s not that I want to. I just don’t have a choice. My flight lands at ten, and I have just enough time to check into my room and change clothes before I’m in a cab and headed across town.
I’m strong enough for this new assignment. I don’t doubt it for a second. But when we pull up to the club, I’m not so sure of anything anymore.
There are people milling around, smoking or leaning against one another to fight off the bitter New York winds. I’m bundled in a pea coat and scarf, thankful for the fur inside the boots I’m wearing. There’s no need to dress up for this evening. It’s casual, and I haven’t worn dresses since my last night in Texas. Jeans are just fine.
I’m almost to the door when a familiar voice calls to me from down the sidewalk. I’d hoped I would have time to acclimate to the club and get a drink before this happened, but I should have known better.
“Emily. Hey. Oh shit, you came.” Hollis’ embrace is like being eaten by a boa constrictor. “Did Mace invite you or . . .”
“No. He didn’t. I’m here for something else.” My explanation is cut short when Jon grabs me from behind and swings me around to face Shawn, who holds my face and plants a kiss on my cheek. They’re all drunk, and I’m only a little surprised, given that this is their CD release party.
“You helped do this, you know.” Shawn’s cheeks are the deepest pink, alcohol fueled, and cold winter blushed. “We would not be here without you. I’m so glad you came.”
I laugh because Jon still has me suspended midair and my feet can’t touch the concrete. “You would have been here without me, I promise.” I’m released and straighten my clothes, trying to keep my hair out of my face at the same time. “Where’s Carrie?”
“She’s not allowed on the bus.” It’s Jon’s voice behind me, but Shawn may as well have said the words himself. Some things are just inevitable.
There’s another guy standing by Shawn’s side. They’re the same height, but his hair is buzzed close to his scalp, and he has huge hazel eyes that are giving me the once-over.
“Cam, right? You’re the new guitar player.”
The way he grins lets me know that he likes attention almost as much as Shawn does. “You’re the girl . . .” Before he can finish his sentence, Shawn is hitting his shoulder and staring down the sidewalk, trying to be subtle.
“Two sixes and a seven.”
Cam’s head swings in their direction, and he shoves his hand into his pocket. “Two sixes at the same time are a twelve, if you go for the seven.”
Shawn makes a snorting sound. “Who says I can’t get the seven and a six?”
Cam pulls his hand out of his pocket. “A hundred bucks, that’s who.”
The fact that they’re now ranking women on a scale of one to ten doesn’t surprise me in the least, but Shawn’s belief that he can pull two of them at a time makes me want to roll my eyes.
“I’m going to step inside and use the ladies’. Do you want anything? A drink? Do you need to pee?” Hollis has a tight grip on my hand, and my girlish sensibilities tell me that she wants me to come so that she can ask what I’m really doing here, but I hesitate.
Ten feet away, with a cigarette hanging from his lips, Tyler is leaning against the bricks. One leg is bent, his shoulders are pressed to the building, and he’s nodding his head every now and then. There’s a man and a woman standing in front of him. Older. Refined. They’re in clothes that give off the impression of wealth and society.
“I’ll be in after a few.” My attention is diverted, and her hand only lets go when I start to step away. Walking toward him is like trudging through the deepest mud, but I hold my head high, my hands in my pockets and strides long. When I’m less than a foot away, his head turns toward me without lifting his chin, and he looks up from under his brows. The white smoke from his cigarette causes his eyes to nearly close before he pulls it from his lips and exhales upward into the air.
I’m struck by how incredibly handsome he is in black wool and new jeans. I want to know if his skin feels hot under his clothes and if his back feels the same when I scratch fingernails across his spine. My fists clench in my coat pockets at the thought. This is going to be so much harder than I’d been prepared for.
“Hi.” My lips feel chapped, and I try to wet them with a tongue that’s suddenly gone dry.
He takes another drag from the dwindling cigarette and expels smoke from his nose before dropping the butt to the ground and lowering his foot to snuff it out. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Who’s this?” The woman in front of him is sizing me up, and the man, who is taller than her by at least six inches, is gazing my way with indifference.
Tyler opens his hand and holds it toward me. “This is Emily. She wrote the article on the band that was in that magazine I told you about. Emily, these are my parents.”
His mom extends her hand. “You can call me Glennon. And this is Henry.”
I take her hand in mine and shake it before doing the same in turn with her husband. This was not a situation I had been prepared for. No one ever thinks they’ll meet the parents of their one-night stand. The one they still think about when they lie in bed at night. Along with other single-person activities.
She’s petite, and her hair is going gray, while her husband is full-on silver. He holds the posture of a man who thinks highly of himself. It’s a bit familiar. He looks like he was in the military at one time.
“We’re going inside. How much longer until this is over?” He speaks to his son like he’s talking to a recruit in basic training.
“You don’t have to stay. It’ll be another couple of hours.”
“We’ll give it another thirty minutes, and then we need to leave. Your mother has to sleep, you know.”
“Yes, sir.”
This is not the Tyler I know. This is bitterness and resentment personified.
“I wish you could stay longer. This is an incredible night for your son. Can you believe he’s been on TV twice in the past few weeks? I bet you had a viewing party or something for him. Such an achievement. I only have articles in magazines, but my mom cuts them out and puts them in an album.”
Tyler is staring at me in complete disbelief. His father on the other hand . . .
“It’s something we hope he’ll grow out of one day.”
This makes my blood boil, and I turn on all the charm I have left in my body. “He’ll win awards for this album. I’ve seen it before. When a band hits it big this fast, the sky is the limit. I hope he doesn’t grow out of it. It would have been a complete waste for him to never be discovered. I’m proud to have been part of this. He’s so talented, right? Very deserving.”
His mom looks up at him, and I can see her eyes soften a bit before she shuts down again. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say. Let’s go inside, Henry. My hands are freezing.”
While they walk away, Tyler stares right into my eyes. It takes every last bit of willpower I have not to ask him to kiss me.
“You didn’t have to do that. They won’t believe a word you said.”
I shrug and push my hair from my face. “I didn’t lie. Every parent should be proud of their kids.”
“He probably would’ve been if I went into the Navy instead of this.” His smile is that of a child who never got approval from the people he looked up to the most. He pulls another cigarette from his pack and cups his hand while he lights it. Fresh smoke hits the night air, and I inhale, aware of how much I’ve come to like the smell since we’ve been apart.
“Seriously. What are you doing here?” The way he flicks the ash holds my attention, and I don’t know how to say the words that are trapped in my throat.
We are interrupted by Hollis before I can answer. “Mace, we need to go back inside. Two songs, a
nd then we can do whatever. Drink. Go back to the hotel. Two songs.” She has a hand on his shoulder but is looking at me while she tells him this. “You staying this time?”
My words hold more weight than they know. “Yeah. I’m staying this time.”
The club is packed with industry people, guests, and family of guests. It’s a much different crowd than what they’re used to, but Tyler handles it with ease. Guitar in hand, he greets everyone from the stage from behind the mic. He thanks everyone for coming and repeats that he’s excited about the release and following tour.
He thanks his manager. He thanks his rep. He thanks the label and the magazine. But he does not mention me.
When they begin to play, I rest my elbows on the table and pretend for the thousandth time that this song isn’t about Addie. The music is perfection, and I don’t want to ruin it with any other thought.
You lit the match
And watched us burn
How’s your view through the smoke, honey?
Ashes keep falling like rain
You keep holding tight to the pain
But when the smoke clears
You won’t see me there
I’m letting go
Everything about this is a lie. But I can pretend.
The crowd claps, and there are a few cheers that come from the outskirts while Tyler smiles again. “Not to spoil the surprise, but there’s a bonus track.” The other band members clear the stage, and Tyler walks over to a keyboard that’s been ignored since we first walked in. The mic is already set up, and lights drift over when he puts his fingers to the keys. Then he closes his eyes and begins to sing, which is when I rise from my seat and search for the nearest exit.
I’d steal your kisses in the dark
Hold you close
And leave my mark
I’d touch your hair
Maybe Page 9
